


Honorary bird

by Iriascend



Series: Emotionally Constipated Robins [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Gen, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd-centric, MO is make it up as we go, Male-Female Friendship, Metahumans, No outlines we die like inspired idiots, Protective Jason Todd, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rated T for swearing, Resurrected Jason Todd, Threats of Violence, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iriascend/pseuds/Iriascend
Summary: Jason Todd rediscovers the joys of human socialization.The Batfamily discovers Jason can be something else than a rebellious asshole, if given a chance.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Original Female Character(s), Jason Todd & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Emotionally Constipated Robins [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581820
Comments: 32
Kudos: 178





	1. Jason

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Ouija Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159531) by [SunnyBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyBlue/pseuds/SunnyBlue). 



> Second part in the series, sequel to ['In oculis veritas'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809692/chapters/52044682). It is recommended you read the previous work, but I tried to make it optional and include brief summary/hints of what happened in the story.
> 
> Inspiration link added halfway thru writing this - the fic inspired me for some epilogue stuff. And it's also just super friggin good and if you like this story go read that one.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to befriend a Jason? Talk to him about books.

Making friends after you spent nearly your entire life only socializing with vigilantes or outlaws was, in Jason’s ranking, one of the hardest things on Earth. Possibly the only harder things are changing Batman’s mind or protecting your digital data from Babs and Tim.

But unlike those two things, he wasn’t going to give up on this one. Well, at least not yet.

Julianna Powell, who ~~claimed~~ **_was_** friends with Jason’s ghost, and who he nearly shot because he’s about as good with dealing with the past and his emotions as Bruce is — she was too promising of a person to give up that quickly. For starters, she was genuinely interested in him, and didn’t see him as another vigilante soldier to use in a mission. That alone was something that drew Jason to this _situation_ like a moth to a flame. 

Their initial hang out, the lunch back then, was awkward as hell and stiff and painfully polite. He wasn’t surprised, though. He did threaten her with a gun just a few hours earlier. Honestly, he wouldn’t hold it against her if she didn’t show up at all. 

Still, she did, and they talked, like normal people, and he found it _entertaining._ The topic quickly changed into literature and Jason was refreshed to hear a person speak about Hamlet in the same passionate way that he _felt_ about the story, but never could express because he ha a _reputation_ to uphold. Dick would never let him off the hook if he ever shared his analysis of the Shakespearean prophecy. 

So when they parted, both tired out of their minds, Jason was _excited_ to meet her again. Hear the rest of her take on Dante’s Inferno. Maybe get a book recommendation. Only later he realized that if he wanted that to happen, he would have to make the first step. Julianna didn’t, after all, have any way to contact him. Except maybe approaching him again if she ever ran into Red Hood. Which he honestly doubted she would attempt ever again. 

And that’s how he found himself staring at his phone, with her number typed into the dialing screen, completely frozen. With what? He wasn’t sure. Fear, perhaps, the kind he hadn’t felt in a _really_ long time. Since he was a teen, maybe. Maybe never, really.

Eventually, Jason chickened out of calling her, threw his phone on the table and himself on the sofa, groaning. He didn’t even know what to say to her, anyway. That’s why when he heard the mobile ring, it made him jump like a startled little kid.

Jason grabbed the thing and looked at the caller ID. It wasn’t Julianna — it couldn’t have been, but his brain expected it anyway, somehow — and it was honestly the last person he expected.

“What do you want, Demon Spawn?”

_“Is it handled? A week passed.”_

He frowned.

“What?”

_“The case you had shared with Grayson. We agreed that I’ll give you a week before escalating it.”_

He groaned. 

“Yeah, it’s none of your business but I took care of it. You can fuck off.”

 _“Todd says it’s been dealt with,”_ Damian’s voice was only slightly quieter, which meant he was speaking to someone next to him and didn’t even attempt to hide it. Brat.

 _“Oh my god, I hope he didn’t shoot her.”_

It was Dick in the background. Of course it was Dick. A little shuffling, a muffled and offended ‘hey!’ from Damian and Grayson’s voice became clearer in the phone’s speakers.

 _“You didn’t shoot her, right? You always make it sound like that when you say you ‘_ dealt with’ _something..”_

Jason sighed in annoyance. A reputation alright.

“I didn’t shoot her.”

Dick sighed in relief.

 _“So it was about a woman? Pathetic,”_ could be heard from next to Dick, and more shuffling. _“Give me back my phone, Grayson.”_

Jason didn’t want to talk to them, and he didn’t want to hear them argue about Damian’s phone, so he just hung up. As expected, a few moments later he got a text from Dick.

_what did you do?_

A series of texts, really.

_what was it all about? was she telling the truth?_

_Jaybird please i need to know_

A barrage, more like it.

_Jay._

_Jay please_

_Im going to call her myself if you dont tell me_

That was enough. Jason was not going to let Nightwing stick his nose into his matters. So he had to reply. But how? Could he get away with telling him nothing? 

_i handled it. drop it._

He didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

_im going to do it_

No, he wasn’t going to get away without telling Dick at least _something._

_she told truth. I talked her out of getting involved. happy now?_

He didn’t have to wait long for a reply beep.

_no but im not going to get more out of you now so im just gonna pout and bide my time_

Jason sighed again. Getting Dick off his case was hard and wholly unpleasant. There were few things he hated more than nosy people.

But the whole ordeal gave him an idea. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it before.

_Hi, this is Jason. Thought I’d give you my number. See you sometime soon again?_

He looked at the text on his phone screen, thumb hovering over the Send button. It had the same kind of distanced politeness about it that was between them in person. Was it a good thing? Did he want to send something like this? Was it… him?

He erased the entire text and started over.

_Jason here. Wanna grab coffee tomorrow?_

The moment he finished typing it out, he quickly erased it, feeling slightly embarrassed for some reason.

Last try.

_Jason here. When’s the next book club meeting?_

That. Now that sounded more like him. He hit Send. And then spent good five minutes staring at his phone before he realized what he’s doing. Jason threw it on the sofa and walked out of the room. He had to get some things out of his system, so he headed straight for a nearby gym. 

The next ‘book club meeting’ was the next day, and from then on it became a weekly thing. Sometimes even bi-weekly. 

In time, he relaxed around her. Mostly after he read through her Robin notebook and carefully asked the right questions. It appeared that however close they were in the past, Jason kept his most important secrets; while she knew a good deal of _juicy_ details about him, and Crime Alley, and Batman, and even Nightwing, she had no clue about their identities (well, save for his own name, but even that one he learned he’d told her good couple years after they met) or anything other that could _compromise_ the vigilantes. That was a relief. And with that relief, he was able to talk to her more easily. 

She, on the other hand, relaxed a bit each time she saw him unarmed and in civvies, heard him talk about literature. Possibly when he stopped acting like he was testing her. Maybe Julianna also psychoanalyzed him and deduced he no longer wants to kill her. She was a shrink, after all, even if currently underemployed. He was curious about what she actually thought of him. But he’d never dare to ask. 

He did dare to do many other things, though. Like asking her to come over instead of meeting her in a diner or coffee shop. Calling her to talk about nothing when he was down and Roy was being an ass, or too busy to be bothered. Doing groceries for her when she admitted she forgot. She forgot about a lot of things, actually. Or rather, she prioritized a lot of things over her own day-to-day business. Jason quickly learned how packed her schedule was, mostly with volunteer psych advice and free therapy for people who couldn’t afford it. He figured the ‘call me if you need to talk’ cards were part of that. 

Despite that, and his own rather _unusual_ lifestyle, he strived to hang out with her regularly. Their meetings slowly morphed from ‘book club’ into more of a… story club. Julianna had a talent to make any medium sound like a ‘good read’ even if she was talking about a TV series or a video game. Which she enjoyed quite a lot, too. Although she admitted it's half because she likes them, half because she wants to stay up to date with things that might help her connect with younger patients. He didn’t mind. It was a conversation topic like any other. After a while, even that wasn’t needed. They started talking about _life_ in general. It was an odd sensation. To hear someone complain about coworkers and traffic instead of rambling about the political situation of the middle east or the new crime ring of drug dealers in the south end.

He struggled to reply with the same at first. His ‘work’ was all about drug dealers after all. Jason didn’t want to involve her in that kind of thing, for safety reasons and for… his own sake. There was something soothing about talking with a civilian. Someone who wasn’t part of the entire _vigilante_ thing. Luckily for him, Julianna seemed to notice, and she knew the right questions to keep the conversation going. She’d start with standard things, like his favorite food, and an hour later he would find himself passionately explaining to her why Dijon mustard is a travesty or how cucumber is the superior sandwich ingredient to tomato.

With all that, Jason almost didn’t notice when it was a few months later and they regularly laughed over coffee like lifelong friends. 

“You know,” Jason said one afternoon, not bothering to pause the Netflix show they were watching. “It _does_ feel like I’ve known you for ages.”

Julianna looked at him for a while, her face somehow both surprised and utterly _delighted._ Then, struggling to regain composure and make her voice stop trembling, she spoke up.

“I’m- I didn’t want to… assume anything. Pressure you?”

“You didn’t. Don’t worry,” Jason reached over and ruffled her hair like she was one of his brothers. “I guess we just think alike enough to, yanno. Get to here from the starting point. All over again,” he grinned.

She giggled and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Jason smiled too, then went back to watching the TV.

“I’m glad someone thinks so.”

He never expected how much change this sentiment would bring not only his, but all Bats’ lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This had no beta reading and it shows. Sorry.


	2. Jason/Red Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disagreements are a part of socialization, Jay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a dedication to Lola, who commented on the previous chapter, the first person to ever leave a comment on my fics <3

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Who the fuck called him at the unholy hour of eleven in the morning?

Jason stumbled to find his phone, then fumbled with it for a moment, cursing under his breath as he tried to find the button to reject the call. Anyone who woke him up could go fuck themselves.

Once it was silent, he threw it away. One day he was going to break his phone because of doing things like that.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Fuuuuuuuck.”

Jason rolled out of his bed and angrily grabbed the phone.

“What?!” he growled into it.

 _“Someone’s got off on the wrong foot, huh?”_ Julianna chirped on the other side. He immediately regretted barking at her. But he would rather die than to admit that. _“Or did you have a long night again?”_

“Yea,” he yawned loudly.

_“I woke you up?”_

“Something like that.”

 _“Oh. Sorry! I’ll call later, then_ — _”_

“Nah I’m already up, whatever. What’s the matter?”

 _“I got a call from a kid in, uh,_ **_deep_ ** _downtown, and he wants to talk, but only can make it out safely when his…_ guardians _are already_ asleep _. You know. I was thinking you could give me some advice on how not to get shanked around those parts.”_

Jason let out a long sigh and massaged the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Then he realized how much of a _Bruce_ gesture it is, cursed under his breath, and sat back on the bed.

He thought for a moment how to break it to her that just outright _dying_ was the _best-case_ scenario for her if she went anywhere farther than the 122nd street.

“Yeah I got you one good advice: **don’t go** ,” his tone was grave and commanding. Her response was not adequate to it. 

_“Jay.”_

“Seriously.”

_“You can’t stop me.”_

He laughed heartily. Boy, was she good at making him laugh with her pitiful ‘threats’. Only maybe Dick could make those words sound serious. If someone like Tim or Damian said that, sure, he’d also _consider_. Jason was still pretty sure he could at least knock them out and keep their asses out of trouble if he needed to. But her? Locking her in a room would be enough.

“Oh, I definitely can.”

 _“Okay, yes, fine. You_ can _stop me, physically, but that would make me_ angry _.”_

“Ooooh no, I’m so scared,” he faked a gasp, then giggled. “Do you really think I’d be intimidated by your anger? Please.”

There was silence on the other side instead of the expected indignation.

 _“I wasn’t trying to intimidate you,”_ Julianna replied, speaking slowly as if she wasn’t sure Jason understood English. He frowned. _“I was just saying that if you tied me up or locked me away or whatever you were implying, I would probably not enjoy being around you anymore.”_

Now that. That sounded like a real threat. Jason didn’t like to be threatened that way. 

“So now your company has a price, huh?” he growled into the phone, eyes squinting in suspicion. “I gotta be a good boy or you’ll never talk to me again, is that it?— ”

 _“Jason, no!”_ she immediately interrupted him, sounding distraught and a _little_ panicked. _“No, that’s not what I meant! Not at all!”_

“Well that’s what you said!” he was _this_ close to just disconnecting. And possibly throwing the phone hard enough to at least crack the screen.

_“What I said was if someone breaks my trust by ignoring my boundaries, I will no longer trust them to respect me the next time and would be uncomfortable hanging out with such a person.”_

“It would’ve been for **your own good**! You’re _insane_ if you think you can waltz into Crime Alley looking like a lost little lamb like you always do and _not_ get immediately swiped into trafficking!”

 _“I_ **_don’t_ ** _think I can waltz in there like that and that’s why I’m asking_ **_you_ ** _for_ **_help_ **_”_ Julianna cried out. Quite literally. He was fairly sure she was on the verge of sobbing. _“For help, not for acting like you’re my father and know better what’s good for me and will ignore what I say because I’m young and stupid!”_

Jason got irrationally _angrier_ after she said that, and he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t good at handling these bouts of irrational anger, either. 

“There’s nothing I can tell you except **stay home** ,” he barked out. “So if you want my help, that’s all you’re going to get. If you want to get yourself killed, that’s fine by me. Be my guest! We’ll see if **you** had any unfinished business, huh?”

He fully expected her to hang up on him, or maybe start a yelling match _then_ hang up, like any Bat would. Instead, there was a brief silence.

 _“My break’s about to end,”_ Julianna spoke right as he was about to pick up his tirade of mocking and sarcasm. Her voice was small and weak and yet, so annoyingly controlled. _“I’ll come over after work so we can talk in person, okay?”_

Jason growled angrily again. “Can’t guarantee I’ll be around.”

 _“I know. I’ll come anyway. Bye, Jay. Have a nice day.”_ And with that, she disconnected. 

_Have a nice day_ and fuck you too, Powell! 

He dropped back on his bed and covered his face. Why people insisted on being stupid, and assholes about it? He didn’t want to think about it, so instead he went to his kitchen, made himself some instant ramen, and ate it quickly. Then headed to his own little vigilante cave to focus on motherfuckers he needed to bring down.

Jason only thought about Julianna Powell next time when his phone beeped, and he absent-mindedly took a glance at it, slowly chewing his 8th pizza slice today. He had been trying to figure out how to approach these new problems with Black Mask for hours now, and his brain started to feel like a slushie. 

_knock knock?_

He stared at it with tired eyes for a moment. Maybe if he won’t talk to her, she’ll figure out she really has no idea how to go about prancing into Gotham’s infamous crime zone. He hoped she would. The notification faded out and Jason attempted to go back to work. The phone made a noise again. He tried not to look. He did anyway. 

_i left you a bag of hotdogs on the doorknob. tuesday still up?_

Jason mulled over replying. Finally decided against it. He was not going to be swayed by some snacks. 

He was, though, going to be swayed by Julianna’s tracker (Bat paranoia never leaves you once it sets in, really) entering Crime Alley. With a groan, he stood up, grabbed his helmet, put on the armor and the jacket, then headed out to catch up with that idiot and stop her from getting herself killed.

Again. 

It was something hard to admit — he ought to give her more credit than he initially did. Julianna Powell was nowhere near the cunning of a local street rat, nor the trained strategy of a Bat, but she _did_ fare on the streets way better than he anticipated.

Jason looked at her from his relatively safe perch of a fire escape, high above the street. He made sure to keep her in his sights but tried to be inconspicuous about it, stay a little further. On one side because he _definitely_ didn’t want her to know he was keeping an eye on her. On the other, because it would be an even greater disaster if _anyone else_ knew he was keeping an eye on her.

Powell put on possibly her worst clothes, which made her stand out less than she would in her normal, middle-class attire. Pulled on an oversized hoodie over her head, making her look less feminine, less fragile, and less frightened. The thick leather jacket over it looked awful but would protect against knife cuts in a pinch. She also didn’t bring any mugging-enticing bag with her, although Jason knew she had to have her phone on her somewhere since the tracker was pinging her clearly. She even had long pants and good running shoes on, in case she had to try and make a quick exit. 

If he didn’t know better, he’d guess she has some kind of a bulletproof vest under the clothes. But he knew better and despite all her weirdly knowledgeable preparation, she was still as defenseless as ever. The moment someone notices how out of place she is, she’s toast.

What was she even thinking she can do? One talk with a kid in Crime Alley — what would that achieve? Because she certainly _couldn’t_ be thinking of making this a regular thing. She wasn’t _that_ mad. On the other side, she _did_ move back into Gotham, knowing full well not only that the city is full of her worst triggers, but also that she’ll be underemployed. Maybe she _was_ that mad. 

No, this would be a one-time thing if Jason had anyth— 

Oh. Oh god. _Oh fuck. Fuuuuck._

 _Of course_ this would be a one-time thing. Because there never was a plan to have her visit more than once, was there? This was so terribly, obviously, a trap. Why didn’t he think about this earlier? What kind of Crime Alley kid would even call her?! If only she wasn’t so stubborn, hadn’t argued with him, if he hadn’t gotten angry at her—...

There was no time to lose. He had to get her out of here, _now_. Before she is too far in.

Jason nervously tapped his fingers on the edge of the roof. If he swoops in, they will make a scene. Bad. In his style, but bad. He does _not_ want anyone here to remember her face, especially not associate her with _him_. She has to back out on her own. But she doesn’t have any comms…

Or does she?

He pulled out his phone out of the inner pocket of his jacket, took off a glove and tapped her number in.

Ring. Ring. Rin— 

_“Jay? What’s_ — _”_

“Listen,” he cut her off immediately, and hoped she can understand his street accent because it sure as hell was going to kick in any moment, like always when he was angry and in a rush. “I need ya to turn ‘round, _now_.”

_“What? Why? How do you even know where I am?”_

“‘Course I know. You’re in the Crime Alley, exactly where I told ya not to go. I’d know that much even if I didn’t have a tracker on you.”

 _“Excuse me? You’ve been_ stalking _me?”_

“No! That’s not how it works. Besides, ’s not important right now. Go home. Now!”

She sighed as if giving up. Jason regarded it as an at least partial victory.

_“...why?”_

“’S a trap. Yer walkin’ right into a kidnapping. You’re going to end up trafficked o’ harvested for organs o’—”

_“Jay. Jay, stop.”_

“I won’t stop until ya realize—”

_“I know. I realize. I knew from the beginning.”_

Jason took a moment to pause and blink.

“Ya fuckin’ _what_?”

_“I know what I’m doing. I’m not five, I don’t take candy from strangers anymore. And this was obvious from a mile. The kid sounded fake as hell.”_

“Then what the fuck are ya doin’?”

His heart couldn’t decide between being absolutely, batshit _furious_ and completely, overwhelmingly _scared_ for her. Maybe he was both, at the same time. 

_“The kid sounded fake as hell in his scripted dialogue read off a page someone gave him to lure me. Not in what was under it. I heard his trembling voice. He’s afraid and alone and needs help.”_

“An’ how the fuck d’ya suppose you’re gonna help him?”

_“I’m getting him out of here.”_

He definitely was both at the same time and he did not know how to cope.

“That’s not how it works! Yer gonna get shanked! Ya dunno what yer doin’!”

_“Guy who started doing flips off criminals’ backs at twelve doesn’t get to judge me in this matter.”_

Jason stuttered, just for a brief moment, just for a split second because she _was_ a bit right and he _hated_ it.

“ **_I_ **had Batman t’cover me,” he barked back in defense.

 _“And I wanted to have_ you _at my side,”_ Julianna replied. It sounded more serious and controlled than any words she uttered ever before. Jason didn't think she could speak this… _coldly_. _“But you didn't want to. You wouldn’t listen to me at all. You knew better. You threatened violence if I disobeyed. What am I, your Robin?"_

And that, oh, that _stung_. He made an ungodly, angry screech, then threw his phone so hard it hit the wall of the building on the other side of the street and just _exploded_ into pieces.

Jason stared at the falling remains of his phone with a blank expression — not the first nor the last time he did that kind of thing in anger — then sighed. “Real mature of you Jay,” he mumbled to himself. Somehow, that act of destruction made his anger disappear. Dissipate into thin air, into easily swallowed pieces, just like the ones that were his phone just a moment ago. 

He knew why he was suddenly so angry. It was because Juls was goddamn fucking _right_. He acted _exactly_ like Bruce did towards them, always treating them like babies. _No, you can’t go, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ll get hurt. I don’t want to hear this! You’re staying in the Cave!_ And then the Robin snuck out anyway and did his goddamn job and saved Batman’s life or something, because there was more to the kid than Bruce could ever see. More to Dick, to Jason. To Tim. To Damian. They fucked up, sure, a lot, but they knew what they were capable of, and if Bruce could just _listen_ for once…

Jason didn’t like this revelation. Jason didn’t like how much he apparently acted like Bruce while swearing he’s better, different than him. Jason didn’t like how this all suggested he saw Juls as a kid that he needed protect, or maybe use and control. But mostly, Jason didn’t like the fact that he ruined the exact device he used to track and contact Juls. Because his outburst caused him to lose sight of her. And now he would not only have to push away his unprocessed feelings but also track her without a clue about which way she went. And without a clue if she’s still alright.

Fuck. Just — Fuck.


	3. Red Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The definition of friendship and affection is a little different than what Bruce taught you, Little wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who did not read previous work in the series: Juls is a metahuman who can see, talk and interact with ghosts.

Luckily, none of them had guns. Juls would probably hyperventilate herself into a coma if three thugs were pointing guns at her. Not that she had more chance of survival against three knives if they knew how to handle those. But at least she had her thick leather jacket, which could stop a slash or two. That would give Jason time to check out the situation and deal with it the best way he could. It was bound to be messy and clumsy, because he couldn’t just shoot them and be done with it, not with Juls in the middle of it all. He needed to find a way to take out at least two of them, and hope Juls wouldn’t be taken as a hostage by the third before he incapacitated him too. Maybe if he snuck to the other corner? Or dropped from—

Yeah, no. Everything he had planned went out the window in a heartbeat when Juls, instead of stepping back like a normal civilian, stood her ground. Looking like she’s about to throw down with the thugs, no less. Did she have any fighting capability, or was she just attempting to scare them away? Jason had to admit, though, she did have _great_ intimidation skills for someone as non-threateningly adorable as her. 

Staring right at the three men before her, Juls was keeping the teen she came here for behind her with one arm, with the other… it seemed like she was holding something. But there was nothing there. Why was she grasping air?

“Your Ma isn’t very proud of how you turned out lately, Graham,” she said, looking one of the goons straight in the eyes, bow furrowed. It occurred to Jason that she didn’t say it as a question. She didn’t even use the past tense. With her tone, it was more like she was relaying a message in real-time than—

Then he noticed it. The vaguely familiar _shift_ about her, the slight change in her posture or vibe or _something._ The feeling she gave off when she was dealing with a ghost. When she stared death in the eyes. The feeling that always made Jason think twice about whenever she was as innocent as she seemed. The three thugs apparently thought so too, judging by how their scowls faltered a bit. 

She _was_ relaying a message _._ Jason couldn’t help but blink, a little shocked. It all fell into place. She wasn’t holding air, she was holding _hands_. With, he assumed, a ghost. A ghost who was probably no-one else than the late mother of the goon she addressed. 

Goddamned metas. It was clever, but could she really drive them away by just talking?

The thug she addressed snapped out of his shock and growled at her. 

“Ya shut your trap up or I’ll cut your tongue out.” She didn’t seem fazed at first, but Jason could see how she clenched her free hand into a fist nervously. 

“She loves you because you are her child. No matter how bad you think about yourself, she will love you. She will love you _because_ you think bad about yourself.”

His face dropped, and then his arms lowered, mouth trembling like he was about to start crying.

“What, ya think ye can scare us wit’ some psych shit that could fit half the country?” a second goon stepped towards her, knife outstretched, sensing she struck a chord with his companion.

“You, on the other hand, just don’t want to admit you’re _so_ like your father,” Juls continued without missing a beat. Like she was prepared. “Doing to others what he did to you makes it hurt less. Feels like you’re in control.”

“You betcha,” he grinned, unamused, still advancing. Jason noticed how Juls did everything in her might not to flinch, to keep staring and talking instead.

“It felt freeing, the twenty-three stabs. Sure got a lot out of your system, Charles.”

 _That_ finally stopped him in his tracks. His other two companions looked at his back with furrowed brows like the fickle trust that guaranteed cooperation between them had been weakened.

“How the fuck would ya know?!” he yelled. The kid behind Juls cowered in fear. 

Juls smirked in response. Did her best impression of knowledgeable smirk too, like someone who has control over a situation. Jason could appreciate the performance. He knew it was a performance because he could see the tension in her back, all tight and high-strung. 

Then she took a step forward, like an idiot, and Jason immediately went back to trying to figure out how to help her. 

“The same way I know how what happened to your brother.”

Now that, that was a bullseye. The third goon almost dropped his knife, moving sharply and angrily.

“What did you do to Billie?!” he asked with a low, threatening rumble in his voice, turning to his friend. 

Jason knew where this was leading to. Juls seemed to know, too. She was running, dragging the kid with her, before the yelling match even started. Stopped only three blocks down the road, exhausted and panting. Wasn’t too hard for Red Hood to keep up and follow.

He climbed down into a side alley and whistled, getting her attention, then motioned for her to come closer. The moment she recognized him, she almost ran into the shadows.

“Ya okay?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders for a moment. He could almost feel her heartbeat, that’s how wild it was.

She just nodded vigorously, too out of breath to speak just yet, and pushed him away slightly to lean forward and rest better. Then she turned her attention to the kid, and Jason naturally followed suit. Only then he realized the kid was mortified to see him. Or mortified about what Juls said to those guys. Or just mortified in general, really, that would also be a valid reaction to the whole ordeal. 

He pondered he’d be too if he saw something like that go down. Shit had to look _weird_ as fuck from the kid’s perspective.

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay. We’ll keep you safe,” Juls said when she caught her breath, glancing over to Jason. “He won’t hurt you, I promise.”

The tween didn’t seem convinced, so Juls kneeled in front of him. Gently took the kid’s face in her hands, and turned it towards her, so he would have to stop staring at Jason’s intimidating and slightly annoyed posture. Then she smiled.

“I know you probably didn’t expect this at all, but you’re safe now, okay? They won’t get you.”

“Ya didn’t fuckin’ _ask_ him if he even wanted to go with ye?!” Jason exploded hearing that. This entire thing was a _mess_. 

Julianna just outstretched a single finger to shush him.

“I’ll get you a warm bed and a meal for tonight, no strings attached, and then we can talk about the future in the morning, okay? I won’t do anything without your consent, I promise.”

Jason forced Juls’ hand down, then squatted next to her, pushing her away from the kid slightly.

“Your promises don’t mean shit right now,” he mumbled to her, then looked up at the tween. “Listen kid, she’s might not know jack shit about us Crime Alley people, but she’s a good person, alright? So at this point you should grab the chance to get a good night’s sleep, a shower and a real, hot meal, and think about running later, mmkay?” 

He pulled a candy bar from a pocket of his jacket, then handed it to the silent kid before turning his head to Juls again. “Because she’ll totally understand if ya don’t wanna stay, right?” he growled slowly through gritted teeth.

She groaned, slightly offended.

“Of course. Don’t worry. I want to help, but I won’t force you to do anything. Alright?”

Jason stood up, satisfied. The kid took a deep breath in, slowly nodding too.

“Alright.” His voice was small and overwhelmed, so he couldn’t be much of a fighter. Jason _could_ believe that Juls heard him on the phone and immediately thought he needs help. Because _hell_ , you don’t last long on the street if you’re meek like that. 

Jay sighed, simply tired of this entire situation.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe now. You two stay put.” He pulled out a small comms earpiece out of his pocket and threw it to Juls. “In case ya need to run. I’ll be right back with my bike.”

She pulled a face at the device in her hands, but nodded, dropping it into an inner pocket. 

When the door to the bathroom closed and the noise of running water could be heard, Juls finally let out the breath she was holding. The kid was safe - agreed to stay at her place until morning, scarfed three bowls of chili and now was getting a much-needed warm shower, while a pullout sofa full of pillows and blankets awaited him. 

Julianna looked up at Jason, who was leaning on the kitchen door with a sour expression.

“Can we argue tomorrow?” she pleaded softly, her voice sounding way more tired than she looked. 

“What?”

“I can see your face. You really want to yell at me.”

He groaned.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I admit.” She seemed surprised by his words. “There were at least three occasions today when I wanted to rip you a new one. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it. What you did was—”

“Can we _talk_ tomorrow, then? I’m exhausted. Please.”

Jason sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Sure.”

Julianna dragged herself to the kitchen and downed two big cups of water. Stared at the sink for a moment, then turned to Jason again. Slowly made her way over to him and rested her forehead on his chest without but a word. He stared at her, surprised.

“Uh, Juls?”

“Stay tonight?” she whispered. 

“Yeah, alright. I was planning to do so anyway, just in case.” There was an awkward moment of silence between them. “Is everything—”

And then he noticed. Her shoulders shuddering, and the quiet sobs, muffled by his own jacket. She was crying. 

“I—” she managed to mumble, “I was so scared. I thought— I’m not gonna make it—”

He looked down at her, confused and lost. What was he supposed to do? This was new and unprecedented. Nobody he knew ever needed to release tension after a mission, not this way, not this kind. Neither heroes nor outlaws wanted to show weakness like this. And even if they did, certainly nobody was looking to _him_ for comfort.

“Hey, Juls, calm down. It wasn’t that bad—”

She just started crying harder, her words no longer understandable. Jason bit his lip. Then he did the only thing he knew could possibly be appropriate.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged.

  
  


Every time he wanted to start talking about that night, she hushed him and said “Not now”. She had full-time work and a kid to find a place and care for, and while he could understand why she didn’t want to talk right after, or even the next day, falling silent about it for a whole _week_ was just fucking _rude_.

When the kid got into a youth shelter Juls vouched for, under a fake name, she _finally_ decided to sit down with him and talk. He was in a very foul mood for a few days then, and couldn’t help but tap his foot in irritation at that point.

“I see the princess decided to grace me with an audience,” he said sarcastically, glaring at her.

Julianna just sighed and sat down with her cup. The coffeeshop was pretty empty, and their spot secluded enough to talk. Soft music in the background didn’t really fit the atmosphere between them.

“You have every right to be upset with me,” she started, and Jason could already hear all the excuses and ‘buts’ in his head. “Thank you for being patient and giving me time to process what happened, even when you really wanted to talk.”

He blinked. What was she _on_ about?

“And I’m sorry. I should have never spoken to you like that, I should have not poked at things that cut you deep. Being stressed is no excuse for hurting you. I hope I can make it up to you one day. I promise I will do my best to never do it again.”

Jason held out his hands to stop her, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You think _that’s_ what I’m angry about?”

She shook her head.

“You’re also angry I went at all.”

“Well, duh! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

For a moment, she didn’t answer, playing with the cup ear of her coffee instead.

“I know. All the more reason to be thankful you were there for me even when you were angry, even after I was mean to you. Hopefully next time, you won’t have to.”

“ _Next time_ ?! There’s not going to _be_ a next time!” he stood up from the table, placing his hands on it with a loud thud. The barista looked at Juls as if checking in if everything is alright, and she nodded with an apologetic expression. Jason sat down, knowing he shouldn’t make a scene. 

“Jason. Please. Listen to me. I’m going to sound a little like a shrink, but I did study psych and it’s hard not to look at things like that.”

He growled half-heartedly, but allowed her to continue.

“I’m a civilian who knows absolutely nothing about crime and fighting and survival. I will get myself into trouble because I’m weak and sheltered and would not survive the winter. You dislike that. You want to keep me out of trouble. And it’s because you’re, I hope, worried for me, and would rather see me safe and sound. But you’re worried for me like I was a _child_. A puppy that’s going to run into traffic. A baby bird that fell out of its nest—”

Jason opened his mouth to protest, but she shushed him with a quick gesture.

“— but the truth is, weak and unfit for the streets I might be, I’m not _helpless_. I’m an adult, I can care for myself. In many things I can handle myself better than you. In many things, you’re superior. That’s because we’re two different people. But neither one of us is better _overall_. Neither of us gets to control the other! I recognize the things in which I _suck_ and I came to you for help with them. I thought we could achieve something together. Better. Safer. Compliment each other’s strengths. But maybe you value your fortes more than mine, because what you did was ignore my areas of expertise — didn’t even bother understanding where I was coming from — and tried to do the entire thing _your way_ , and your way _only_. And I wouldn’t have that. And it made you angry. And for that, I will _not_ apologise. This one is _not_ on me.”

Halfway through her monologue, he started tapping his fingers on the table in irritation. He wasn’t dumb. He could see when someone was _right_. Didn’t mean he was going to be happy about it.

“I’m my own _person_ , Jay, not an extension of yourself. I get to have my own agenda. I deserve respect. I should be heard out. And so do you. God, _so do you_. Please, understand that.”

Julianna sighed, and fell silent for a good while. Sipped her coffee until she ran out, then looked back at his annoyed, darkened face.

“Do you want me to go away?”

He grimaced. “No.”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed. Only then he noticed how tense she was the entire time she talked. Like he was going to have another outburst and yell at her any moment. Maybe start throwing shit. Maybe get a little violent. And honestly? He could totally see himself doing that. He almost did. 

Something cold and unpleasant sank in his stomach when he realized she was, at least a bit, afraid of him.

“I have a lot to think about,” Jason said slowly, brows still furrowed. Juls put her hand on his gently.

“I’m going to be here if you need me. That’s what friends are for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for having no idea how to write bad guys.


	4. Little Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason finds solutions in cooperation.

“Macbeth again, huh?”

Jason looked up at Juls, and put the book away for a moment to grab the beer she was holding out for him.

“What can I say. Classics never get old.”

She put a small bowl of cashews on the coffee table and set herself on the couch next to him, with a book of her own. Hers was a medical book, though, not fiction. “Comfort book much?”

“Yeah, reading about how someone else fucks up their life big-time like an absolute idiot always make me feel better about myself,” he took a gulp from the bottle, then made an approving noise and looked at the label. “New one. What gives?”

“Found a fancy craft beer shop down the road. Like it?”

“Yeah. Add it to the Jason-approved list of offerings.”

“Duly noted.”

Jason eyed her for a moment. “I’m still angry at you, though.”

“I am aware of that. I’m also aware that there’s nothing I can do about it. Or _should_ do about it.”

“Except maybe bringing me good beer.”

Juls grinned. “Except bringing you good beer. And snacks,” she added, offering him her bowl of cashews. He grabbed a few and returned to the three witches and their prophecy for a long while. 

Slow afternoons like that had evolved from Tuesday lunches and Sunday Netflix nights. They would read next to each other or watch something together, and chat and sometimes order pizza, but there was tension between them. Tension that Jason knew is his anger. But he didn’t want to let go. Didn’t want to admit to it, because admitting to it would be also agreeing she was right. And that he maybe should do something about it.

So he was silent, pretending everything was normal, and so was she, and sometimes he forgot what the fuss was about. But periodically he’d remind her they weren’t all good. He reminded himself they weren’t all good. He wasn’t all good.

And he hated it.

Jason mulled over his thoughts, staring at the same page for a good five minutes. Juls must’ve noticed it, because she sent him worried glances from time to time, before finally speaking up.

“You okay?”

He slapped his book shut and put it down on the table, then energetically turned around on the couch. Sitting sideways to face her, Jason tried to figure out a way to say what he had in mind. 

“I got an idea.”

Jul raised her eyebrows quizzically, then bookmarked and closed her book too.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m going to teach you self-defense.”

She nodded, remaining silent as if waiting for the continuation. When he didn’t pick up, she tried to pry more out of him with a simple “Okay?”

“You know. So you’ll know how to defend yourself at least a bit.”

She smirked. “So you won’t have to stalk me out of worry?”

Jason shrugged and made a nondescript, slightly offended noise, but it was obvious that’s exactly what he meant. At least the worrying part. The ~~stalking~~ tracking would remain if he could help it.

“Do you mean self-defense as in how to get free from a wrestling hold, or as in I’m-going-to-show-you-how-to-deck-a-grown-man?”

“Street smarts. What to avoid, how not to look like an easy target, what you can do when things go south even if you’re smaller. Things you’d have learned as a teen if you were slightly less of a sheltered princess.”

Juls chuckled. “Yeah we’ve done this before, I’m already only half as sheltered as I used to be in my teens.”

He rolled his eyes. Sometimes it was annoying when she referenced their shared past that he remembered nothing of. But he learned to roll with it - what was the point arguing with it? She didn’t seem the type to make stuff up, and even if she occasionally did, the things she said weren’t improbable enough for him to notice. And he _did_ allow her to refer to him as the same Jason that she used to know, so he wasn’t really in the spot to complain now.

Not that it would stop him from picking up where she left it and teasing her about it.

“Jeez, being around you must’ve felt like babysitting,” Jay said with a shit-eating grin. She didn’t seem to take the bait, challenging him a bit instead.

“That’s one of the things you always seemed to complain about, yeah,” she laughed. “The same as I always complained that you’re a little shit.”

“Not so little anymore,” he stood up briskly and flexed one of his arms in an overly dramatic manner, making her giggle.

“Yeah, I miss the time when you were an entire head shorter than me.”

“Maybe if you stood on the table, sure.”

They shared a hearty laugh. For a moment, it seemed like their argument was but water under the bridge. Jason wished it was like that. 

“Okay,” Juls finally said when she caught a breath. “I agree to your offer. Under one condition.”

“I’m listening,” he mimicked her tone and pose from a moment before, mocking her a little and getting a small smirk out of her.

“If you’re going to teach me something, I’m going to teach you something too.”

Uh-oh. 

“What? Teach me what?”

“To be a decent human being,” she replied, with a shit-eating grin of her own. Jason groaned and dramatically fell back onto the couch as if she dealt him a lethal blow. “I’m going to learn how to punch things if you learn how to talk about your emotions. That’s my deal.”

He could get irritated. He could yell how he doesn’t want to, how he doesn’t need to, how it’s stupid. He could refuse her suggestion, insist that it’s pointless, that he doesn’t need to learn anything like that. Stand up and leave. Have another shitty, quiet, lonely day, week or month. He could do many things, and all of them would be very Jason “Red Hood” Todd of him. 

So he did the one that would have more of a Jason “Little wing” Todd vibe.

“Fine! But I’m going to complain the entire time.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I expected nothing less from you.”

The first few times they’ve met for _lessons_ were unbelievably boring and irritating, for both of them. She _sucked_ at anything physical, because the last time she exercised was probably in a past life. He would rather _die again_ than talk to her about why he was constantly so goddamn angry.

And yet, they persevered. Mostly because Juls tried her damn _best,_ even if it meant she was laying on the floor for half an hour trying to catch a breath and looking like she just got slammed by a truck. That made him feel very fucking _guilty_ every time he thought of setting the notes she gave him on fire. So they persevered. 

Jason wouldn’t say he _enjoyed_ any moment of noting down words for emotions and how people dealt with them and what’s the definition of a coping mechanism. But he _was_ pretty stoked to see that over those weeks Juls’ hits were getting better, and that on one particularly good day and with a bit of luck she even floored him with a well-aimed kick to the knee. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” she gasped and jumped to him when he bent over in pain.

“I’m fine, it takes way more than that to get me,” he mumbled, massaging the sore spot above his knee. “That was good. Keep that up.”

Juls grinned.

“How that makes you feel?”

Jason rolled his eyes, then smirked. “Proud. Damn heckin’ proud.”

She jumped in a little victory gesture. 

“The feeling’s mutual,” she said, offering him a hand to help him stand up. He grabbed it and pulled himself up, nearly toppling her over with his weight. “I think it’s a good moment to take a break. My shift starts in two hours, and I’d like to shower and grab some lunch before it.”

“Fair. Thai takeout to celebrate your first takedown?” he grinned.

“Only if it’s on you, I’m knee-deep in student debt and can’t go over budget.”

He made a mental note to somehow use his stupid amount of ~~_slightly_~~ _very_ _illegal_ money to pay her debts off. 

“Of course it’s on me! Gentlemen always pay.”

“I’d call you many things, Jay, but a _gentle_ man is not one of them.”

“Touché.“

“You’re still paying.”

He burst into laughter. “Hit the shower and meet me by my bike down the street in fifteen, sounds okay? And yes I have a spare helmet for you this time.”

“Who’s the mind-reader now?” she replied with a grin of her own. Jason just sighed and left, shaking his head and smiling. 

In time their little exchange of knowledge started to gain traction. To the point where Jason pondered dropping by Dick’s apartment to just… talk, like humans. Like brothers. Like they used to. He hadn’t acted on the urge, but it was there, nagging, reminding of itself constantly. Sometimes like a mysterious longing in his heart. Sometimes like a bad spicy taco in his guts.

The lessons also gained traction on Juls side. To the point where she dared to ask him, albeit meekly, for help in checking up on a patient they lately had in the hospital, one that lived in Park Row. Jason just rolled his eyes at her and sighed. And gave her a ride. 

To some degree that was, in retrospect, a mistake. Because even though it went smoothly and this time it was not a trap (he made sure beforehand), it encouraged her. With his support and the little training she had, she got _bold_ . Started asking him to escort her into Crime Alley more often. In a flash, she had ten different kids talking to her on the reg. Small ones, who didn’t harden enough to scoff at offers of help yet, sometimes their siblings, curious about the changes they saw. They got a fucking entire _therapy group_ there. And Jason couldn’t just _stop_ helping her run it.

Not that he’d want to, he mused. He thought he _should_ want it to stop. So he didn’t have obligations like this. So he wasn’t involved in something this… this… soft. But he didn’t. He didn’t mind. He liked it. 

Jason remembered he enjoyed helping. Not beating people up, not keeping criminals in check, not dominating over the bad guys. At the core, he wanted the people of Gotham, the people of Crime Alley, to have it better. To have food and shelter and safety. And apparently therapy, if they needed.

He remembered he used to be Robin, the morality pet — however badly warped his own morality was — who cared about people, first and foremost. Not Batman, the caped crusader, who always put the mission first.

Those were the thoughts that filled his mind as they were preparing to leave Crime Alley for the day, having had just left the ruined building Juls had made into a makeshift psych centre. Those were the thoughts that came to a screeching halt when he saw a gun pointed at Juls out of the corner of his eye. His instincts kicked in, and he immediately tackled her into the wall behind her, then pushed her back into the building. She only managed to let out a startled gasp, air knocked out of her lungs. 

He didn’t ask them questions. He decided he would figure it out later. Priority was taking these guys down. 

Not that it was hard. He peeked out from behind the door and planted a few well-aimed bullets in their legs. Some began to crawl away in panic, possibly not prepared for any kind of retribution. Those who didn’t got a quick kick to the head to make sure they wouldn’t try anything stupid. He would ask them questions later. Figure out what this was about. For now, he dragged one of the unconscious men back into the building. Dropped him right next to the door, then went to check up on Juls. She was pale, but present, curled into a ball in the corner, cowering. He walked up and squatted next to her, obscuring the bandit from her view. 

“It’s okay. It’s safe now.” Jason put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. She nodded and smiled weakly.

“I’m good.”

“Now listen carefully,” he began, slowly, sternly. “And don’t panic.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s definitely gonna make me panic. What’s happening?”

“Seems like someone sent hired thugs after us.”

“W-what? Why would anyone—?”

“I’ve got some ideas. Maybe someone didn’t like our little therapy group. Maybe they were after me, though that would mean their employer is dense like a brick. I’ll have to find out.”

Juls nodded again. After a brief pause looked hesitantly at the door. “Is it safe to —?”

Jason grimaced, then shrugged.

“Should be, but I’m not sure. Gotta squeeze some answers from that guy over there,” he motioned towards the unconscious thug

“I’m not keen on watching you beat information out of people,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, I realize. But if I leave that guy to get you to safety, he absolutely won’t be here later.”

“I’m also not really keen on going out into ‘ _I’m not sure if it’s safe’_ alone.”

“Oh, no, I’m not letting you go out there alone, not in a million years,” he immediately retorted. Then he sat down next to her, hand still on her shoulder reassuringly. “But I can’t be in two places at once.”

“Maybe— Maybe the kids? I mean, they know how to get around, right? I bet Jimmy would—”

He put up his hand to stop her.

“As much as I know these kids genuinely like and appreciate you, Juls, they have two major flaws that make this idea absolute crap. Sure, they could try to lead you out into midtown via their secret little safe passages. But one, they grew up in this dump and however much they like you, the moment there’s danger it’s every person for themselves. And there _will_ be danger. Two, even if any of them decided to defend you, none of them is big enough to make a difference. I mean, they’re like, ten years old max. What do you expect them to do? Throw a rock at a gunman?”

Juls sighed in silent defeat. Jason tapped his fingers nervously on his knees. He needed ideas. He needed a plan. He needed _backup._

His eyes widened and he turned to Juls enthusiastically. 

“Hey. Do you trust me?”

She seemed caught off-guard by that question.

“Yes? But that is a very suspicious-sounding question to ask in this situation.”

He grinned, glad that his mischievous reputation still stands. “Would you trust people that **_I_ **trust?”

Juls blinked. “I thought you worked alone?”

“Usually. Wasn’t always the case, right? I think I can pull a few strings and get someone else to cover you while I deal with this mess.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Please tell me you’re not going to call Batman.”

Jason choked on his spit. “Ew, no. I’d rather die than ask _him_ for help.”

Julianna mulled over her answer for a moment in silence. Then, she nodded. “Yeah. I think I could trust your friends. Thank you for asking first, too.”

“I’m diligently doing my homework,” he grinned and pulled out his phone and dialed the only person who he knew would be up for babysitting a civilian for some time. 

“Hey, ‘Wing. Do I have any favors with you I could cash in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! :)


	5. Nightwing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big brother fills in for when Jason is busy.

He swooped in on the coords as fast as he could, because Jason sounded _angry_ and weirdly _cold_ when he relayed his need for backup _._ That was a dangerous mix, especially with civilians involved. 

Jason just nodded when he saw him and took off, dragging an unconscious thug with him, without even a word of debrief. Dick sighed and shook his head.

“I will need to ask you what was that all about,” he said to the only other person in the vicinity, the girl he was supposed to take to safety on behalf of Red Hood, “but I’m told it’s not very safe for you here, huh?”

She nodded, waving him a little hello. He responded with a smile and a wave of his own. 

Plain clothes, chubby tummy and cheeks, hair in a high ponytail. Pale, scared face. Perfectly ordinary, but also awkwardly out of place anywhere south of Mayfair avenue.

“My car’s not that far,” he said, motioning for her to come closer, and she obediently did, “but I guess maybe you shouldn’t be seen strutting down the road with a vigilante if we want to keep your profile low,” he added, pulling out his grappling gun.

“You have to be kidding me,” she immediately took a tiny step back and pointed broadly to her plump figure. “You can’t hope to carry me.”

“Don’t worry, these muscles aren’t just for show,” he grinned, patting one of his biceps. 

She nodded hesitantly, though her face screamed disbelief. He led her towards a hole in the wall opening into a secluded alley.

“This is going to be a little awkward. Wrap your arms around my neck as tight as you can, and I’ll secure you by your waist. I promise you’ll be safe,” he flashed her one of his signature reassuring, bright smiles.

She sighed in defeat.

“So, the name’s Nightwing,” he said the moment they both got into his _Nightcar,_ currently camouflaged as a plain, black Toyota. Man, he really needed to stop using that name, _Nightcar_ sounded ridiculous. But at the same time, there was something _sentimental_ about it. Reminded him of simpler times, when he would name everything Bat-something, when Bruce would be caring and kind in his own, weird way, and Jason was a cute, eager teen with a filthy mouth.

He pushed those thoughts away and extended his right hand to her as she fumbled with her seatbelt.

“Julianna Powell,” she answered, squeezing his hand. He blinked a few times. Where did he hear that name before…?

Dick’s eyes flashed with recognition and he laughed. 

“Oh. Oh my god! What a coincidence! You’re the ghost girl that gave her number to Hood!”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks turned red a bit.

“I’m glad Jay speaks well of me. Tho ‘ghost girl’ isn’t exactly how I hoped I’d be referred to.”

“How, then?”

“By my name would be fine.”

“Well, Julie, mind telling me what happened there that Jaybird so desperately needed help?”

She shrugged. “Not entirely sure. Someone shot at us out of the blue. He’s trying to figure out who and why now. And since I’m a big baby when it comes to danger, he doesn’t let me wander Crime Alley alone.”

“Wait,” he put his hands on the wheel as if to ground himself and looked her straight in the eyes. “You’re telling me you two keep in touch?”

“Uh, yea? We—... wait. He didn’t tell you anything, did he?” she eyed him. “If Jay didn’t tell you about me, it probably is for a reason. I mean, he failed to mention he keeps in touch with you, too.”

Dick pouted dramatically, then sighed with a smile. “Fair. Admirable loyalty and impressive acumen. He just told me the ‘issue’ with his secret identity being compromised was _‘handled’_ ,” she raised her eyebrows in a clearly _‘wow rude’_ grimace at the fact that she was being called an ‘issue’. “Jay and I… We… used to be closer. He’s not a people person these days.”

Juls smirked. “He is, if you give him time.”

Dick was about to try to press a little further to understand what she meant exactly, but then his comms beeped.

_“‘Wing, do you copy?”_

He tuned into his comms, leaning away from Julianna instinctively. “What’s up, Hood?”

_“This is bigger than I thought, mafia’s involved. Quite the mess. Gotta track a few people and remind them who’s boss in these parts. Don’t ride to her home, get her somewhere secure. And keep an eye on her for a few days, will you?”_

“What do you mean, a few days? I’ll gladly help you but what am I supposed to do with her if I can’t deliver her home?”

_“I don’t know, you come up with something, Goldenboy. Hood out.”_

“Jay—!”

Dick looked at her, a little sad, a little confused, fully apologetic. Juls shrugged.

“We’ll have to find a nice little place to stash you for a while.”

“Wait, like I just have to not show up at my place, or like I can’t show my face outside at all?”

“The latter, I’m afraid,” he sighed.

“You know that I have full-time work I can’t just… _disappear_ from,” she stated. He nodded slowly. He only vaguely remembered where she worked — some kind of hospital — but he was pretty sure he could get Babs to put in a fake sick leave in their system. Or he’ll just strut in there as officer Grayson and say she’s a witness or something.

“That’s not really the problem here.”

She didn’t seem convinced but also didn’t argue with him.

“If you can figure out how to not get me fired while I’m missing shifts, I’m sure my mom or my brother would let me crash for a few nights.”

“I doubt they count as _secure_ in Jaybird’s mind. Does any of them have a home security system?”

“No? So wha—”

Dick groaned. With mafia involved, he couldn’t just drop her at her someone’s doorstep. They’d find her sooner or later, and if anything happened to her, Jason would _have his head_ for sure.

“So no, they definitely do not count as _secure_.”

“Well, then, I’m out of ideas,” she fell back against the seat. “I’m not Jay to have like a dozen different places all over the city to drop in at a whim.”

Dick grinned, her words giving him an idea. Possibly not a good one, mind you, but at least _an_ idea. 

“You’re not. But **_I_ ** am.”

As he opened the door for her and let her in, her face went from a little confused to outright _amazed._ Dick liked it when people beamed like that, like they just saw something breathtaking. He turned on the wall lights in the living area. She walked into the room and turned around full circle, taking her surroundings in, all starry-eyed.

“This— this is your _safehouse_ ? Like something that you rarely use, and keep _just in case_?”

On second thought, it was kind of sad that she was this blown away by a nice apartment. It always was sad when he realized how much of a difference was between them — between _him_ — and normal people of Gotham.

It was no use mulling over it, not at that moment, no. Dick walked in after her.

“ _Technically_ it’s Batman’s but he won’t mind,” he grinned playfully, then vaulted over the couch to sit on it, his legs landing on the coffee table gracefully and gently. “Not every one of them is like this. I picked out the nicest one for you. You’re going to be home-arrested in here for some time, after all.”

“You do realize this is bigger than any place I’ve ever lived in, right?”

“The job has its perks,” Dick laughed, and soon after she followed suit. For a moment her laugh was a little awkward, a little hysterical. But it quickly morphed into a genuine one. Their laughs matched, brisk and bright and sincere in tone, and it only made Dick smile more.

When they finally stopped laughing, she sat next to him on the couch.

“What now? You’re just going to go home?”

“I was thinking I’ll stay for a while, make sure it’s safe, nobody followed us or anything. Give you a tour around here maybe,” he winked. “Get to know you, too. I mean, you must be one hell of a person if you befriended Jaybird.”

Julianna smiled a little, accepting the compliment wordlessly.

“He’s a difficult man, true. But I’m used to people like that.”

“Oh?”

“I’m a psychologist. My entire life is devoted to helping people who might not even know they need help.”

He tilted his head, looking at her. “But you weren’t a psychologist back when you met him, right?”

“Back when I met him?” she parroted in confusion.

“I know the ghost girl story, remember? I know you met him back when—” he missed a beat, and for a split second his smile faltered. He never liked to talk about it. “— when he was dead.”

Julianna put her hand on his knee. Even though Dick wasn’t used to people doing that (not with how his family was), he _was_ a very _tactile_ person so he leaned into the reassuring touch. “He talked about you a lot. You were like a big brother to him.”

“And I let him down,” he sighed.

“If we blame ourselves for every bad thing that happens to our loved ones, we will drown in self-hate and never know peace.”

They stayed in silence for a while, her hand on his knee in a gesture of solidarity.

“What is it like?” he asked finally, not looking up at her. “To see ghosts.”

She let out a long breath like it was a difficult question. He realized it was.

“Very similar to being a psychologist,” she began with a small tease heard in her voice, like she was trying to lighten the mood. She succeeded, a bit. “And very similar to being a hero, I’d guess. It’s a lot. It feels like you’re the only person who can help them. Because you sometimes _are_. And nevertheless, you have to learn that you _can’t_ save everyone.”

Dick finally stopped staring at his feet. “But you have to try.”

Julianna nodded. “But you have to try,” she repeated.

He smiled, and let out a sigh, releasing the thoughts that troubled him. “I like you.”

“I was told I’m quite likable. We seem to share that trait.”

Dick chuckled. “I can’t believe someone as tender-hearted as you can stand Jason.”

“Well, that attitude is probably half the reason why he doesn’t seem to be able to stand _you_ ,” she grinned teasingly.

He dramatically put his hand on his collarbone as if he was clutching a pearl necklace. “Excuse me? I’m his favorite vigilante.”

“Sorry, no, that would be Arsenal.”

“Fair point. I’m way too cuddly for Jaybird,” Dick grinned teasingly, then leaned away and rolled over the armrest. With a little push, he was soon standing upright. “So, interested in that tour?”

“Is there anything here I shouldn’t touch?”

“Oh, plenty. Most off-limits things are electronically locked, though, so don’t worry,” he nodded at her to follow him, and led them into the hall again. “That’s the bedroom, all yours. There should be extra blankets and pillows in the closet. I’m _pretty_ sure they should be fairly _fresh_ ,” he joked.

“Are they silken, at least?” she responded with a tease of her own. 

“Who do you take me for, a peasant? Only the finest cashmere.”

They shared a laugh, and Dick walked into the kitchen. He jumped onto the counter and sat on it cross-legged, like the restless monkey that he was. “Hungry?”

“Not really, but I’m betting you have something stupid like caviar here. I’m dying to see what snacks rich boys in Halloween suits eat.”

He chuckled. “You know, _Halloween costume_ is possibly the most overplayed joke I’ve heard about it.”

“You want me to call it a fursuit? Is that what you want?”

Dick burst into laughter. “Okay, fine, I admit my defeat. Please stick to calling me a Halloween rich boy.”

Julianna grinned smugly, walked over to one of the cabinets, opened it and started going through its contents.

“Mostly protein and candy bars,” she said with a joking disappointment in her voice. “And a bountiful supply of… Fruity Oat Bits?” She hesitantly pulled a cereal box out of the cupboard, then looked at him with a confused expression. Dick’s face started beaming with childish joy.

“My favorite! I didn’t know we had ‘em here,” he immediately swiped the box out of her hand, and with one quick jump landed next to the fridge, rummaging for milk. “Can you grab me a bowl? It should be in the cupboard on the right.”

Julianna tried not to laugh, but failed miserably. Choking on giggles, she found a bowl and handed it to him just about when he managed to open the milk and get himself a spoon.

Then she started full-on laughing. Literally bent over on the floor, trying to catch a breath. He had to agree with her. There was something _ridiculous_ about Nightwing, a vigilante made of lean muscle and bright smiles, standing in the middle of a kitchen, in the dead of night, scarfing down a bowl of kids’ cereal.

He grinned between spoonfuls. “Now this is what I call aster.”

She looked up at him, trying to stop chuckling. “Huh?”

“Aster. Like _disaster_ , but without the _dis_.”

“That’s not a word.”

“Well it should be, so I made it so.”

Julianna snorted. “How do people ever take you seriously?”

He stuck out his tongue at her. “They usually don’t. They usually also regret it immensely. As I said, these muscles aren’t _just_ for show.”

“But they’re _also_ for show, huh?”

“Oh _absolutely!_ ” Dick grinned and immediately put the bowl down. He rushed into the hall, where there was a little more space, and did a somersault, then a backflip, then stood on his arms. 

She gave him an astonished thumbs up. “When did you pick gymnastics up? You seem experienced.”

“I did acrobatics for as long as I remember,” he said, smoothly transitioning to a backbend.

“God, you must’ve been an _insufferable_ kid.”

“I was definitely an insufferable _Robin_.”

She snorted again.

“I can imagine. Now the mental image of Batman telling you not to do flips on the roof of the Batmobile will never leave me.”

He laughed, and gracefully returned to standing upright.

“Though aren’t most Robins like that?” Julianna added. “It’s like a trademark, isn’t it. For you to be obnoxious and annoying.”

“Don’t tell that to the current one,” Dick chuckled. “Speaking of which. I should probably get going, or he’s gonna skin me alive. You’re going to be fine?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Can I ask you a favor?”

“Oh boy. People want a lot of favors from me today.”

“A small one, I promise.”

“Okay then. What is it?”

Julianna reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. She extended her arm, offering it to Dick.

“Could you drop by my place sometime tomorrow and like, grab me my toothbrush, a change of clothes and maybe my cell charger? I’m assuming you know where I live, you are all stalkers.”

He chuckled and grabbed the keys. “Yeah, sure, you got it. I didn’t think about it, honestly. There should be some T-shirts in the bedroom you can use as pajamas for now.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Good night!”

She waved at him as he approached the window to leave like a real vigilante.

“You too, Nightwing. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Right back at you, Julie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I pumping out an average of 2k words per day? We just don't know.  
> P.S. When I said this is going to have 10 chapters I thought Jason is going to take 1 or 2. So like. Uh.


	6. Nightwing/Boy Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightwing learns the night doesn't need to be dark and full of terrors.

He knocked on the glass of the window.

“Hey, are you decent?” he asked loudly towards the inside.

“Not according to my mother, but yeah I’m dressed if that’s what you’re asking!” could be heard from the living room.

Nightwing laughed, typed in the access code and slipped into the apartment. Julie was sitting on the couch, mindlessly staring at a nature documentary on the TV. She smiled at him and waved, and he reciprocated. It was starting to be their usual welcome, and honestly, he could get behind it. Nobody else except other vigilantes was this nonchalantly easygoing towards Nightwing. It was refreshing to see a civilian react to him just like to another human being.

“I see you’re slowly absorbing Jay’s sass,” he said, setting a duffel bag on the coffee table. 

“Hopefully he will absorb some of my manners.”

He snorted. “Has he contacted you?”

“Yeah, made sure I’m safe and told me not to call him in case he was _‘in the middle of business’_ ,” she smiled with a fake-sour expression, rolling her eyes. “He keeps replying to my texts though, so I know he’s okay, too.”

Nightwing nodded, glad to hear that she cared about Jason at least as much as Jason seemed to care about her. Then he pointed towards the bag.

“Clothes, charger, toothbrush, your entire underwear drawer, the book from your nightstand, the Switch from your living room and all the Switch games I could find.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I should say something like _wow_ or _thanks a lot_ or _you’re so thoughtful,_ but what I really need to say is — my _entire_ _underwear drawer_?”

He shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “It was that or me going through your panties to choose a couple to bring you. I decided just tossing everything into the bag was less creepy.”

“Fair judgement,” she chuckled a bit. Nightwing handed her keys back to her. “I appreciate the console. I am _bored out of my mind_ and I was wondering how much I’m going to survive locked up in here.”

“A busy bee, huh?”

“A people person, more like it. I’m not used to being isolated.”

“I thought you were a loner back in school?”

Julie eyed him, a little suspiciously. “And how would you know that?”

Nightwing laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We did a background check on you back when you first met Jay.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned playfully. “Compulsive stalkers, all of you.”

He fell onto the couch and sat next to her, chuckling under his breath in amusement. “I think your master’s thesis was cool, if that helps.” 

Julie turned the sound off on the TV and looked at him, wide-eyed.

“You read it?”

“Skimmed through it. Can’t say I understood much of the psych jargon, really, but I can say with full conviction that your take on grief is really good. Hit close to home, to be honest.”

She smiled sadly at him, and, once again, put her hand on his knee for a moment. “One learns a thing or two about that when they deal with death all their life.”

Nightwing nodded, agreeing in silence, and then it hit him how that sentence wasn’t just about her and her metapower. He froze for a split second. Her observation skills were good, and her ability to notice his long-forgotten emotions was… unsettling, to say the least. His Bat-paranoia spiked at the realization. But if Jay trusted her…

He grinned, like he usually did instead of sighing.

“That’s just how it is when you’re a vigilante. I got used to it,” he said with a shrug. 

“That’s possibly the saddest thing one can hear from someone,” she riposted. “ _I got used to it_. My heart dies a little every time I hear that. _My dad beats us, but not very often, so it’s okay, I got used to it._ Or _I’m constantly hungry, but it doesn’t bother me much, I got used to it._ Or _I’ve seen so many people die on the streets that I lost count. I got used to it by now._ It’s just… wrong.”

Nightwing furrowed his brows for a moment, making himself more comfortable on the sofa. He didn’t quite like the direction this was going.

“It’s not—”

“— _like that, you don’t understand. My situation is different,_ ” she interrupted and finished his sentence. One would usually expect this to be accompanied by a sarcastic tone and a smug glance, but her face was the same as before. Soft and sad.

He definitely didn’t like the direction this was going. Sure, he was always the one to _give_ emotional and passionate motivational speeches, but he wasn’t keen on being on the _receiving end_ of them. And it was bound to end with one.

Trying to lighten the mood a bit (or maybe derail the conversation), he touched his chin and made a ‘hmmm’ sound with a playful smirk on his lips.

“And here I thought I already knew who’s the World’s Greatest Detective.”

“I know human psyche like you know acrobatics, Nightwing,” she seemed a little offended with his comment. “So I’ll keep pointing out every time you fall directly into the most stereotypical phrases and scenarios that all psychologists have heard before.”

Nightwing rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. He just _loved_ when people acted like they knew him.

“Well, what would you suppose I should do instead? Do you maybe have a manual for these things?” he said, sounding a little more sarcastic than he intended to. She winced. He must’ve hit a weak spot with that. He wasn’t sure if he’s proud of it, though. 

But Julie toughened up and replied.

“Yeah, actually. That is literally what psychology is. A manual for the mind. And it says letting yourself experience grief is key to stop it from controlling your life. Just like with pretty much every emotion.”

He groaned, a little tired of her pushing it. It’s not like she wasn’t making some sense. But he didn’t feel like they’re… _close_ enough to discuss these things. She wasn’t his friend, not yet maybe?, and she certainly wasn’t his therapist. Jay’s friend or not, he wasn’t going to discuss any of his emotions with her. Let alone his vigilante-related turmoil.

“I know you literally just met me and strangers aren’t really supposed to talk about these things,” she said, and he pondered for a moment if they’re absolutely _sure_ she is not a mind reader. “I just hate to see someone as kind as you crumble under pressure because he thinks nobody can help him carry his burdens, and he insists to carry _all_ of the burdens.”

Nightwing leaned back, creating some distance between them, and freeing his knee from under her hand. She responded by backing her arm out, giving him the space he wordlessly requested. _Demanded._

“And how would you know I’m doing that, World’s Greatest Psychologist?” he snarked again, hoping she’d get the hint. If she did, she ignored it completely. 

“Do you want a heartfelt response, or a technical one?”

“Give me an honest one,” he gave up, leaning even further back into the couch.

Julie took a deep breath, and stayed silent for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts.

“You’re the oldest sibling in a group of vigilantes that clearly has family dynamics,” she began, matter-of-factly. Nightwing couldn’t really deny this one. It was common knowledge for Gothamites at this point. “The father figure, Batman, is aloof and emotionally absent, and yet, you are kind and helpful and forever cheerful, even when admitting you’ve seen people die and that it left a mark on you.”

She glanced at him, as if waiting for a confirmation or a denial. He didn’t give her either, but knew there was no lie her words. There was also nothing about his supposed inability to deal with his own issues, though. What was wrong with being cheerful despite challenges?

“You picked up the role of a mascot to make life easier for everybody else and help yourself push away things you didn’t want to think about. Your entire life since you became Robin consists of performing emotional labor for everybody, and if what I vaguely read and heard about you is true, you also command other heroes in and out of battle, taking up the role of a leader, of someone responsible for the outcome of your joint efforts. You’re, functionally, a single parent with a dozen dependent kids and at least one other adult to care for, all while maintaining the equivalent of two full-time jobs in a high-stress environment.”

Now, this one, while not technically _false_ , was plenty _overdramatic_ and painted with a rather _broad_ stroke. He was managing _great_ , thank you very much. He was on top of his game of keeping Blüdhaven clean, assisting in Gotham, making sure the Bats don’t kill each other by checking up every so often on Tim, Damian, Bruce, Cass, Steph, Duke and sometimes even Jason, his daily job at BlüdPD, keeping up with the myriad of his friends and colleagues (he made a mental note to call Wally soon, and to send a birthday present to Lian before the end of the month), occasional missions with the Justice League or Titans, especially in the past... Okay, maybe there was something to the ‘two full-time jobs in a high-stress environment’ thing that made some sense. Maybe he had a lot on his plate. So what? 

And at that thought, his eyebrows involuntarily slid up. Sure, nothing in her little speech suggested she knew more than a civvie with access to the news would know, and yet. Nightwing still felt like she knew, or rather _understood_ more than she should’ve. Because she understood more than _him_. What was her secret to that? Could it be just psychology? Was he giving out so much with his stance and behaviour? Or did Jason compromise him? Would Jason even _know_ these things?

A single pang of anger flashed in his mind at that possibility, but faded as fast as it appeared. It was hard to believe his brother, being the secretive ass that he was, would tell on him this much; especially when he freaked out himself when she recognised him in costume. It was hard to be angry at her, too, especially when she spoke in such a calm and… compassionate manner. Definitely harder to explode on than on Bruce or Tim and their cold  _ detective  _ approach towards things. 

But he still didn’t _like_ this feeling of being… seen-through? Didn’t like how easily she exposed things about him, even things he didn’t even realize himself. Should he be suspicious about her? Should he even be around her? She was plenty nice, but...

Julie continued before he could make a decision.

“And you never talked about it with anyone, because _you don’t want to bother them_. Because _this is your job_. Or because you never even realised what a toll it takes to live like this.”

Oh that. That was complete _bullcrap._ It was utter rubbish that he never asked for help. He had so many close people and he knew he could count on them if he needed any kind of assistance. it was a big part of his life, to have a broad and sturdy support network. And here she was, suggesting it was not—

He stopped mid-thought. She wasn’t suggesting he didn’t have anyone to back him up. She was suggesting that his broad support network was left unused, at least when it came to helping _him_ rather than helping with _his things_. And, honestly. Ouch. Okay, that stung. This one he couldn’t deny at all and he didn’t like it. He didn’t remember what was the last time he spoke to someone about _himself_ rather than about stuff that was happening around him. Rather than about someone’s issues. 

Before he could comment, or even process this unpleasant realization, Julie added one last sentence, spoken fast and with one breath. Like she kinda feared she won’t have time to say it. Possibly because Dick still had his defiant, slightly unhappy expression on, like always when confronted with things he didn’t like. Possibly because she spent too much time with Jason, who would’ve exploded three minutes ago, if Dick knew anything about him.

“And I know it’s none of my business and you don’t even know me but I think that’s exactly why you need someone to talk to, to bounce your thoughts and emotions off and get it out and process it and even if you don’t want to change anything, at least let some steam off before the pot finally boils over, because when it does, you’re going to either _snap_ or just _break_ into a million depressed pieces and that’s the last thing I want to see because you deserve _so much more_ and if you would allow me, I could be the person to help you to not reach that point, to not drown in bitter numbness _.”_

She fell silent. He kept silent. And blinked slowly. He didn’t expect… all of the things that just happened. All of those words and sudden comprehension. That sense of... being _seen_. Of being _known._

His face softened momentarily. Someone who was essentially a stranger not only took the time to put the clues together and try to understand him on a level he didn’t know even _existed_ , but also… cared enough to want to help him explore that level. That was… a lot. It felt like that one time Bruce had told him he loved him. Something that hit home, and stuck. Something that _made a difference_.

Julie must’ve seen that slight change because she hesitantly extended her arm towards him again. Before they knew, Nightwing had not only leaned into the touch, but laid down on the couch, resting his cheek against her side. She seemed surprised, but not taken aback. She didn’t jump or pull away. Instead, after a moment, she gently placed her hand on his head, stroking his hair slowly in a calming manner.

They stayed like that for a good while. Dick managed not to cry by closing his eyes. That would be bad for his reputation. And a terrible experience when you’re wearing a domino mask.

“Is this,” Nightwing began with a whisper, eyes still shut, “what you told Jay, too?”

“Not exactly. And not yet. He is… a work in progress. But we’re getting there.”

He snorted quietly. _A work in progress_ was a rather mild descriptor for Jason’s temperament.

“Is this why he likes you? This feeling of…” he desperately looked for a word. It wasn’t happiness, no. It’s not that his life was magically better and he now understood himself and knew what to do. But… there was something… “Comfort?”

“I would hope so.”

He smiled. Then, slowly he looked up at her. “I don’t want to talk now.”

Dick was not ready. He suspected he might not be anytime soon. Maybe never. But the perspective of having the option to talk was good enough.

Julie nodded gently. “You don’t have to.”

“But maybe I’ll come around, one day,” Dick added.

“That’s the only thing I asked for.”

Nightwing wanted to say he needed to return to patrol, but at the same time, this weird mix of feeling both _lightness_ and _heaviness_ in his heart was too alluring to let go of. For once, he wanted to be selfish. Truly selfish.

No, not selfish. Self-caring. Finally not only not _alone_ , but also not _lonely_.

So he stayed, until his comms inevitably murmured a _“Nightwing?”_ in Batman’s harsh voice into his ear. 

He waited for a moment before turning his mic on. He didn’t want to respond. “Yeah, B?” Julie looked down at him, a little worried, but he hushed her with a small wave of his hand.

_“I haven’t heard anything from you tonight.”_

“It is slow. Nothing to report." Technically, it wasn’t even a lie.

_“Where are you?”_

He knew Batman could track him if he wanted, so there was no use lying. “At one of the safehouses. Stopped by for a snack. Fruity Oat Bits are hard to come by in Blüd,” Nightwing smiled, so the little play would show his voice.

A grunt could be heard on the other side. _“Get back home safely.”_

“On it, Bats. See ya.” And then a beep and static. Dick sighed, slowly getting up. “I’ll be going.”

Julie nodded in understanding. “You know where to find me if you need me,” she said, and then she smirked suddenly, and something about her tone changed, “you stalker.”

He laughed, suddenly and violently, caught off-guard by a joke after such a long time of… he couldn’t really put a word to it, again. Stillness? Solemnity? Melancholy? _Intimacy_ came to mind but it had a taste to it that didn’t sound right. But maybe he was prejudiced. Maybe that was what he needed, he and his all unsatisfied hugs. Just some friendly, platonic intimacy. Without judgement, without pulling a face and acting annoyed, without pushing him away, like it felt with all the Bats. Without himself closing off to protect the other, like he always was with Wally, Donna or Gar. Without romantic feelings making it a high stakes hormones-driven game of making good impressions, like it was with Babs or Starfire. Just… sharing a moment with someone, nothing more, nothing less. 

… sharing his burdens one day, maybe.

He saluted her with two fingers and slipped out the window to grapple away, the usual smile returning to his face, now feeling way more honest than before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will be returning to regularly scheduled Jaybird soon.


	7. Jay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason experiences a [ heel realization](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeelRealization) and hates it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who had read the previous chapter, Nightwing/Boy Wonder, right as I published it might want to re-read, as I changed quite a bit. The general content hasn't changed so as long as you read it you're good, but I improved on the delivery and been told it reads way better now.
> 
> **TW: this is Jason's angry internal narrative. There's a lot of swearing. And a one-sentence description of gore.**

Red Hood stared at the pathetic man sitting in front of him on a crumbling chair, tied roughly to it. One of the run down warehouses around the precinct once again got to serve a new purpose, and that night that purpose was being an interrogation room for him and his ~~victim~~ informant.

The man was already injured, incapacitated by Hood’s first bullet to his leg. It was either the pain from that, and a couple of punches that followed, or the questioning that came after that made the man soil his pants. He grimaced under the helmed, thanking his past self for installing rebreathers. It must’ve smelled godawful because even with all the filters, it was so bad that the sour stink managed to stand out of the general nasty air of Gotham’s most _prestigious_ slum. 

Jason already had enough names and other details to track down the people behind the attack on him and Juls, or at least get to the next link in the chain leading to the instigator. The point was, he could safely dispose of this guy and carry on. He could. He _could_. And after they tried to kill Juls? He absolutely _should_. Without hesitation or remorse. 

He pressed the barrel of the gun to the man’s forehead and growled, the helmet’s voice mod making it even more primal and threatening. That earned him a whimper of fear from his captive.

Nobody messes with _his_ people. Red Hood was the fucking _king_ of this god-forsaken dump, save maybe in the eyes of Black Mask and some crime families who dared to question him. So those who picked up work against him? Ab-so-lu-tely stupid. He ought to make an example out of them. String their guts across the streets like fairy lights, starting with this guy. He had no _qualms_ disposing of people in the past, and for lesser reasons than being involved in the attempted murder of his friends. You don’t touch Hood’s goddamn _ohana_ , bitches, and live to tell the tale. 

So why, why on Earth was he still only _aiming_? Why wouldn’t his finger pull the trigger?

Jason blinked and snapped out of his thoughts, focused his eyes, looked at the man again. He was shaking, sweating, pale in front of him. A complete nobody, now more than ever. Reduced to a trembling, begging for his life mess in front of him. What was his worth? Why was Jason even thinking about it? 

Why was he _hesitating_ ? Hesitating was _not_ something he did. It was very unbecoming of Red Hood to second-guess his decisions. What was wrong with him?! What changed?! 

And then he understood. Like a thunder running through his spine, the realization hit him hard and unexpected, straightening his body and mind in a single jolt.

Goddamn Juls. 

Jason pulled the gun away, getting a slight sigh of relief from his prisoner. He took a step back. Then he started pacing around the room, a little nervously, trying to wrap his mind around his… revelation.

He never had issues offing people before, yes. Even now, when he kinda-sorta abstained from it to stay on Bats’ good side (getting hunted by the entire Bat fam is just bad for business), he knew he would shoot to kill without as much as batting an eye if the situation called for it. His first instinct was always self-defence, whenever he had a gun or a tire iron in his hands. Tween Jay did _not_ hesitate to hit as hard as he could or throw people off buildings if he deemed it necessary, and neither did the 20-something Jay. 

Jason punched a wall, having had gotten worked up with anger. His prisoner made a frightened (and maybe a little confused) gasp.

The older, current Jason was considerably more trigger-happy and had definitely more blood on his hands. For Robin 2.0 though? It was few and far between to get someone to the other side, though not because of Batman’s silly _‘no-kill rule’_. It was because he had a _reason_ to do it, every time. He did it _for_ something, to achieve something, to protect or dish out justice or get vengeance, not because some people simply happened to be in the way or outlived their usefulness.

When did he become an egoistic sleazy brute like the rest of them, huh?

Baby Jay was an annoying little shit with a questionable moral compass and too much energy than he knew what to do with, sure, but he at least had _some_ kind of moral compass nonetheless. And now? Now Jason was aiming at a guy who committed the grave crime of being vaguely associated with people who pissed Jason off. And a few months back he almost shot Juls for daring to talk to him at the wrong moment. What the hell was wrong with him?

Jason groaned, then slowly made his way back to the guy bound to the chair. 

“If I ever see you fucking around with the mafia again, I swear to god, you’re going to _wish_ I had pulled the trigger tonight,” he snapped angrily at the goon, reluctantly untying him. Then Jason waved him off with his gun-wielding hand, and pointed towards the nearby door. The man looked at Hood hesitantly for a moment, then bolted — well, as much as you can _bolt_ with and injured leg. 

And that was all that Jason wanted. He didn’t need witnesses to his newfound major existential crisis. 

Goddamn Juls. Juls and her words, and her lessons on fucking _emotions_ , getting into his mind and making him _think_ , making him _feel._

He hated it. Oh, how he hated it. He hated admitting there was something wrong in how he was, in how he thought, how he acted. But there was no way around it — either years of getting fucked up and fucked over by pretty much everything, or the Pit, or maybe both (most probably both) made a cold-blooded murderous psychopath out of him. Violent and dangerous, just like Bats thought him to be at the beginning. And contrary to what he himself wanted to believe, not only to those he deemed _bad_. Also to bystanders. Also to those he cared about.

And fucking Juls made him realize it. Made him remember that this isn’t normal, this isn’t just how he is, that he hadn’t always been like this. It took a goody-two-shoes shrink that talked to him like he wasn’t, in his heart, a crime lord, like he wasn’t Red Hood, the guy that everybody with an ounce of self-preservation instinct feared like the plague... for him to remember he used to be a kid. A good kid, even. Instead of treating him like a threat — more or less contained, depending on the situation — like the Bats did (Jason absent-mindedly traced the Batarang scar on the side of his neck with his fingertips), she treated him like he was still little Robin. Like he was the teen always eager to take action, with a filthy mouth and a heart too big for his own damn good. Like he was just... Jay.

He sat down on the now unoccupied chairr, a little overwhelmed by all these thoughts.

Jason wanted to think she was very _wrong_ about him, because if his first reaction was to try to shoot her, he must’ve been fucked up beyond salvation. He wanted to think he now was a violent psycho, for better or worse. He definitely got a mafia target on her back, which in itself was a reason to cut ties and save her the trouble and call himself a terrible person. He wanted to believe that, because that would’ve been _easier_. It’s always easier to keep the status quo. To not think, to not feel, to not _question_.

But he couldn’t believe that. He simply couldn’t. Because, somewhere deep inside, he hoped that she was _right_. That he still was little kid Robin, somehow. That he still fucking was Little Wing, maybe, as evidenced by his sudden inability to just shoot a random guy and carry on without missing a beat. 

Maybe goddamn Juls was fucking right. 

She said they became friends quite easily, back then. He could imagine that, if she was anything like her current self, so similar to the kid Jay he vaguely remembered. Just like him, she was eager to take action, with a heart too big for her own fucking good. Unlike him and his dirty, swearing little mouth, she had smiles for everybody, like Dick.

For a split second he mused how she’s much like if he and Dick had a lovechild, and he immediately gagged at the thought, disgusted with the direction his mind went. He shook his head. But he couldn’t deny that he liked Dick and treated him like a brother, back then at least, and if she was like Dickiebird but also a little more like Jay...

God, he had to like her _so much_ as a kid. Jason only now realised that. And had problems comprehending the sheer intensity that their relationship must’ve had if he stayed with her for four damn years. If he told her his real name, and about Nightwing and Bats and his adventures as Robin and his family and everything else that mattered to him.

And then he tried to kill her. Now _that_ said something about how ugly was the change in his character. The Pit-induced metamorphosis from annoying but likeable Robin to deadly and cold Red Hood. A classic face-heel turn, if you will, taken up to eleven. Like, sure, he also tried to kill Bruce and Tim and, well, basically everybody before, but one, he remembered them and thought they betrayed him (he still did think that, in some regard), and two, back then he was _fucking sky high on Lazarus Pit fumes_. When he tried to shoot her he considered her a stranger and himself to be fully mentally stable. And yet…

~~God maybe Bruce was right about killing being a slippery slope and Jason hated this possibility.~~

Maybe it was time for his redemption arc, he thought. If he deserved one. If he could pull one off. He wouldn’t get any better chances, that was for sure. If he would get any more chances at all.

Jason looked at the gun still in his hand. Not killing willy-nilly, not because Batman said so, but because he thought it was the right thing to do would be a good starting point. What else, though? How does one go about becoming… less violent? Less of a menace? While also, hopefully, still striking fear into the hearts of people who don’t deserve to walk this earth, let alone any mercy?

He wasn’t sure how at all. Maybe he should give guns up? They definitely were enabling him to pursue his more… manic tendencies. Yet undoubtedly, his best suit was marksmanship. Sure, he wasn’t bad in close quarters either, and if he trained a bit he could definitely match even Bruce, especially with his rather bulky posture… but he just didn’t want to give up his best and favorite skill. There was something about guns that felt like it… made him stand out against other Gotham vigilantes (god could he even still call himself a _vigilante_ at this point? Was he much different from a villain?). Draw a line between him and his past. He wanted to stop being a murderous maniac, for sure. But he knew he can’t just pretend like nothing happened, and a clear border between little Jay and him was needed A clear border between him and the Bats, too.

One way or another, he wanted to keep guns in his arsenal. Maybe he should just swap _all_ his bullets for rubber ones, instead of just about half to appease B? Having live ammo on him made it way easier to relapse back to the ‘ _maybe let’s just kill them and be done with it’_ way of thinking.

He groaned, standing up as the night wasn’t getting any younger. 

That was some idea. But he’d think about it more later. For now, he had a whole branch of mafia to explain to why the little Kids’ Psych Center in Park Row was staying, and staying intact, even if it was making their business harder.

 _Especially_ if it was making their business harder. Because that implied they were using kids in it, and as far as Red Hood remembered, he gave clear rules — **nobody touches the kids**. Nobody recruits kids, nobody deals to kids, nobody fucking even bothers kids in his territory. It was apparently time to refresh those rules to _some_ people. 

Jason holstered his gun to grapple into the night towards his next target, and groaned once again. Goddamn Juls. How the fuck did she get to him this easily?

He snorted at that thought almost immediately after it appeared in his mind. 

_Easily._ It’s been what, almost a year since they met. Well, this time at least. If one didn’t count the time they knew each other before he went and got resurrected, she definitely didn’t know him long. But if you count that, you realize she knew him the longest, even if you include people like Dick… And when you add to it all the fact she was a trained psychologist, graduated with honors if he remembered right… It wasn’t much of a surprise that she could read him like an open book. 

And maybe it was a good thing. 

_Easily,_ ha! She spent a year trying to befriend a violent psycho, even after he tried to kill her at the start, just because she saw a hurt little kid in him. Kid needing help just like the kids in the Crime Alley she risked her life for.

 _Easily_ , fuck. Jason shook his head at his own stupidity. Damn Juls deserved a Nobel Peace Prize, not someone saying she did all the incredible things she did ‘ _easily’_.

He’ll have to get her something nice after this mess is cleaned up. Maybe he’ll buy her a new game for her console. Maybe he’ll get her tickets for that one movie she wanted to see. Maybe he’ll simply take her out for Thai food again. She did say she loved that one uptown restaurant, and she smiled more than usual that day. 

Jason smirked, suddenly in that very second knowing what would make Juls the happiest girl in the city. If instead of Thai food he’d just tell her _thank you_. 

Or maybe he’ll simply tell her that over the most expensive Tom yum goong he’ll find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient with this a little slower update time :)  
> @ the person who user-subbed me: I love you.
> 
> If after this chapter you're worried this is going to spiral into romance, fret not, this is going to stay platonic. Just a lil' intense.  
> If after this chapter you're hoping this is going to spiral into friends to lovers, subscribe. If the world allows it there's going to be a fic with an alternate ending that will be going the romance route.


	8. Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No thirteen-year-old is immune to bribing with video games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back in business!! I have a plan and some motivation and by God, I might finish his fic this year!

Grayson had been acting a little strange the past few days, so Damian decided to — in true Batman style — check what’s going on and stalk Nightwing’s latest moves a bit. His plan of action was to check Grayson’s logs, where and what did he do, which files he opened from the Batcomputer, and so on, and then follow up on leads he would deride from those without alerting anyone. If Nightwing was in trouble that he hadn’t said anything about, heading straight for Father would only make the situation worse. He also didn’t want to be seen as needing support from elders like a child. If Nightwing _wasn’t_ in trouble, but decided to keep some _suspicious_ secrets anyway, Damian would _gladly_ gain leverage on him by acquiring this guarded information. 

That’s how he spent some hours in the Batcave, going through the historical files, pretending his best to be reading up on clues to their current case. It was a good enough lie, especially since it was a half-truth. It was a case, it was recent. He was also planning on checking up on the clues to their _actual_ case eventually that evening. So technically, he wasn’t going to lie.

Pennyworth wouldn’t be mislead by these attempts at deceit, of course. But the butler would also just politely offer evening tea and smirk at Damian and not make a single comment. Loyal to a fault, and clever like a fox, he was a dangerous man. Damian was _so_ glad Alfred was an ally, because he’d make a _very_ _scary_ enemy. 

Not long after the butler left, though, Drake appeared, strutting in like he owned the place. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Damian scoffed, barely looking up from the screen. He luckily had been changing the displayed file to something relevant to the actual case, which he had open in case of situations like this, every time he heard someone enter the room.

“What are **you** doing here, is the question,” Drake barked back without missing a beat, then took a sip out of the mug he was holding in his hands.

“I _live_ here, you imbecile.”

“Finally moved into the Cave so that your surroundings match your nasty attitude a little bit more?” the other man leaned against the empty workspace of the Batcomputer and looked up at the screen with rising curiosity. “Ooh, digging through Bruce’s secret files when he’s busy? Naughty,” he snarked despite clearly seeing what the open file was.

Damian growled, half angered naturally, half to keep up the pretense. “Don’t measure me with your own yard-stick, Drake. I would never go against Father like that.”

Drake snorted and smirked ironically. And even though Drake hadn’t said anything, he didn’t have to. Damian knew he didn’t believe a word he heard. It was only fair, as Damian already _did_ go against his Father like that before. Red Robin maybe didn’t know exactly what Damian was looking up, but _Cunning_ could as well be Drake’s middle name. Saying anything more would just give him more clues on to what Damian was doing.

And this? Something that Grayson had hidden from them? This was something he definitely wanted to be the only one to figure out, or at least be the _first_ to do so.

Knowing he can’t fool Drake, he opted for covering up his tracks. In a few swift motions Damian logged off and shut the session down, then dynamically pushed himself away from the cockpit.

“I can’t work like this, your idiocy will rub off on me,” he muttered angrily and stood up. He gave Drake one last menacing glance and stomped off. But not before stealthily swiping some gear on his way out. If he can’t get info from the digital data, he will just have to get it first-hand. And the info he needed was definitely in that safehouse Nightwing visited recently so much for no apparent reason. 

He quietly dropped onto the windowsill, peeking through the window tentatively. Damian wasn’t sure what to expect, in anything at all. Would Nightwing be stupid careless enough to leave any obvious traces of whatever his dubious activity was? It would depend heavily on how rushed he felt, and how special his secret was. Damian considered what the nature of it could be. 

The safehouse certainly looked _lived in_ , so it left Damian no doubts Nightwing had been spending time there. The use of a physical space suggested it was something physical to hide; maybe he had gotten himself something that Father wouldn’t allow in the Manor and Richard needed it in Gotham, not Blüdhaven? Maybe he wanted to keep a project secret? Was anyone’s birthday coming up? Hiding something from Alfred would definitely need it to be out of the Manor… It was all possible. Damian needed more information. 

Given how proficient at hacking and how annoyingly nosy both Oracle and Drake were, Nightwing could’ve as well decided to keep some sort of information in analog form instead and then attempt to hide it in this safehouse. Maybe he was following up on a case that he didn’t want anyone else meddling with? That would be much like him. If that was the case, Damian would certainly make sure to assist him anyway. If he had figured it out, Father would soon follow and Richard would need all the help to wrap things up before that happened. 

Damian disarmed the alarm, quietly opened the window and slipped inside. He was careful not to disrupt anything too much on the off chance he didn’t want Richard to know he was there. 

That sentiment soon crumbled to pieces in the next five seconds.

He drew his blade quicker than his brain registered what he’s seeing, instincts kicking in before he could process the absolutely _bizarre_ sight before him. 

A stranger. Clearly feeling quite _at home_. In their safehouse. 

If she was a superhero, he’d recognise her, so he ruled that out. The only heroes he _could’ve_ not recognised were possibly new or obscure ones. So it was either that, or simply a civilian. The alarm was active when he arrived, and it was hard to believe just about anybody could hack it, so she had to be _let in_ by someone who knew the codes. Richard was here not long ago, too, so probably it was him who brought her, or he at least knew about her. Why would he bring a stranger in to one of their _secret_ places? Why would he _hide_ it from them all?

… was Richard having an affair? Or _worse,_ was he getting a _sidekick_?

He made a couple quick steps towards her and pointed his blade at her throat. She froze, possibly only then noticing him. She then slowly looked up at him from the cellphone she was holding and raised her arms above her head.

“Uh, hi?” she said, her voice trembling just a _little_ bit, which made Damian think she knew she was trespassing.

She was taller than him, though not by much for an adult, but definitely heavier set. Was there muscle under the chub? He couldn’t tell, even through the lounge wear she had on. But the way she stood, feet wide and hips low, steady, made him think she wasn’t just a random civilian. On the other hand, it _was_ Gotham and anyone with half a brain had some street smarts. 

“Identify yourself,” he barked out.

“I’m Julianna Powell. Nice to meet you, Robin?” she smiled weakly. Damian squinted and scoffed, not amused by her pathetic attempt to derail the situation. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m— Can we talk _without_ a weapon between us?” she pleaded. “I’m pretty sure you realise I’m clearly no match for you anyway. It would be nice not to have you pointing a sword at me. Not a big fan of fighting, really.”

“What are you doing here?” he repeated his question, making one step forward threateningly. He was not going to get side-tracked like that. 

She sighed in defeat, though her shoulders stiffened as the blade approached her. “I’m hiding out. There’s someone after me, apparently, and, well. I can’t go back home for now.”

“-tt-” he clicked his tongue again, irritated even more because it _made sense._ But not enough of it. He still had too many questions. He knew she isn’t telling him the entire truth “Why here?”

“Didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She sighed, looking him up and down, as if weighing her options. Then, possibly judging he will press further, she continued to explain. “Nightwing brought me here. He thought it’d be the safest option.”

Damian scoffed. “And why should I believe you?” 

She shrugged. “Nothing I say would be a good answer to that,” she replied, relaxing a little, as if she thought she convinced him. “But you already decided, right? Can you lower the sword now, Robin? Please?”

Damian looked at her, squinting, for a moment longer, then slowly sheathed his katana. It was true she’d be no match for him, even if he hid his weapon. And if she indeed was just a civilian, it would be… not desirable to threaten her, anyway. Father and Richard both would be _disappointed_ in him displaying such a behaviour. 

She — Powell, yes? — lowered her arms and sat on the armrest on the sofa. He eyed her, still a little suspicious, but before he could react, she started talking in a soft, relaxed tone. Kind of similar to Richard’s when he’s worried, or maybe Alfred’s. Unconsciously, Damian relaxed his jaw and shoulders, too.

“What brings you here?” she asked, placing her cellphone on the coffee table. “If you need the place for something, I promise you won’t even notice I’m around. I also didn’t touch any of the… _stuff_. You know, the computer, any tech things, so on. I’m really just playing games on the TV all day lately, being locked up and all. Just circling between kitchen, bathroom, bed and sofa the past days.”

Only then he looked around properly, to analyze the surroundings. The room wasn’t as _immaculate_ as it would be without anyone living there, but tidy enough to support her claims of having very little impact on the place. There was an old cup of tea and a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the coffee table. Other than that, nothing really was changed, and all the systems were still locked by the looks of it. Just the TV was on, and some kind of game console hooked up to it, with a game paused menu on the display. From under the menu, a weird, simple, square-looking entity looked at him, straight through the TV.

He tilted his head. “Is that a _cow?”_ Damian asked, his voice a mix of _disgusted_ and _confused_ tones, him finally recognising what the squares were supposed to represent. 

She followed his line of sight to the television and smiled. “Yep! It’s my Minecraft farm. Been passing the time by making enclosures for cows and pigs and horses, and collecting as many ocelots as I can.”

He immediately shifted his focus back to her, suspicious. 

“And why are you suddenly so friendly, huh?”

Powell blinked, a little confused. “Because you’re a superhero and I have nothing to fear? I mean, sure, you’re a little more abrasive than one would usually expect from a hero, but you’re Robin. You’re a good kid. Why _wouldn’t_ I be friendly?”

She… had a point. He had been excessively hostile upon finding a trespasser on their property, and paranoidally distrustful like a true Bat. But if she really had no ill intentions, then an encounter with one of the renowned Gotham vigilantes shouldn’t be filled with tension. 

Both ways.

He slowly raised his hand and pointed to the screen.

“Why is the cow all square?” 

Powell smiled. “That’s just how Minecraft is!” she reached out towards one of the brightly colored controllers and unpaused the game. The room immediately filled with peaceful, quiet mooing and oinking as the crude creatures on screen began to wobble about. 

Damian slowly walked a little bit closer and gave the game a closer look. She moved the joystick on the controller she held, showing him more of the virtual world. 

“I’m surprised someone your age doesn’t know Minecraft. I’m guessing you don’t spend much time on video games?”

“-tt- I’ve got more important things to do.”

Powell made a non-committal sound of agreement, but then extended her arm towards him and offered the controller. “Wanna check it out?”

He hesitated for a moment. He came here for entirely different reasons. But there wasn’t much of a mystery to unveil here, and so most of his plans became null and void. He… he had some time to burn. 

Damian slowly approached her and took the controller in his hand. 

“You use the joystick to move around—” she pointed to one of the various input knobs on the controller, "and this button to interact with stuff—”

He pushed the button hesitantly, pointing the camera at the cow on the screen, and it mooed happily as hearts flew around it. And that was how Damian sold his soul to Minecraft.


End file.
